


The Sunlight's Fate

by iamcayc



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Strained Relationships, Strong Female Characters, Very loose interpretation of canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamcayc/pseuds/iamcayc
Summary: “Your eyes only seek the restoration of Elvhenan, Solas.” Cognac eyes flashed and melted into pools of liquid gold. “But, contrary to what you’ve allowed yourself to believe for thousands of years, you are not the oldest or most powerful being in the room.”---After thousands of years trying to repair the shatter pieces of her heart, Karys finally returns to Thedas after helping Fen'Harel in his plight to free the People from the Evanuris. But instead of the reunion she dreamt of night after night, she's thrown into a clusterfuck of epic proportions: demons ravage the land (no thanks to Solas's tunnel vision), the People are all but extinct (see previous comment), and a madman is attempting to unleash the harbingers of Chaos that Karys is sworn to keep imprisoned for the length of her immortal life (because of course).This is the story of a primordial magical being masquerading as an elvhen apostate while helping a rag-tag group of mortals prevent the end of life as they know it.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Felassan (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

Gentle, loving fingers pulled through the thick blend of waves and coils of dark mahogany as the dawn snuck into the darkened cottage through the windows and copse of trees that surrounded the home. Felassan kept his eyes trained on her face as he willed his fingers to memorize the feel of her hair as it sifted across his skin; a feeling more luxurious than any of the silks found across Elvhenan. An affectionate smile pulled at his mouth as he watched her stir, her nose wrinkling as soon as the morning light kissed her skin and her eyelids slowly fluttering open, meeting his with a haze of sleep still clouding the cognac brown of her eyes.

“Good morning, _ma’vunlea_ ,” he murmured with a brush of his lips to her forehead. He felt her softly curved body stretch languidly against his as she continued to struggle into wakefulness. A bitter, taut snap of dread lashed through him as he drank in the sight of her, his arms tightening their hold on her instinctively.

Karys huffed a laugh against his neck. “I continue to stand by my statement that there has never been nor will there ever be a _good_ morning.”

He felt her lips press a kiss against the column of his neck before gently nudging him so she could peer up at him. Despite the soft smile playing on her lips, he saw the sadness dimming the light in her eyes. There were a thousand more things he wanted to share with her; a lifetime of nights falling asleep in each other’s arms only to wake up just as hopelessly tangled as the dawn broke. But all of that was cut short, and Felassan still didn’t quite understand why.

He stroked the high rise of one of her cheekbones, now free of Mythal’s branching _vallaslin._ His lips quirked as he recalled the nights they spent sipping summer wine in bed while she redrew the _vallaslin_ of each Evanuris into something far more accurate to their sparkling personalities. He never tired of watching her weave spells and wards, or discussing the intricacies of her spellweaving; he especially never tired of watching her resist the urge to roll her eyes when Fen’Harel took it upon himself to explain magic to anyone in their proximity.

“I told you this was going to happen,” Karys said, her lips brushing his sweetly before she slid from the bed. “Have you seen my smalls?”

The violet-eyed mage shook his head with a wry smile as he watched the love of his life amble around the cozy cottage they had built together, hunting for the elusive pair of underwear in nothing but one of his shirts. 

_A shirt I will likely never see again, knowing her,_ he thought with a soft chuckle. He pulled on his pants absently, loosely tying the laces while making his way over to where Karys fussed with her hair in a polished mirror far too ornate for the simple furnishings of their woodland oasis. 

“Would _you_ like to be the one to tell Mythal that the gift she gave us clashes with the decor?” Karys had asked with an arched brow as she hung the mirror just over their shared wash basin. Felassan hadn’t even bothered to reply, knowing that it was a lost cause, no matter how gaudy the craftsmanship was.

His arms snaked their way around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he gazed at her reflection. She smelled like roses on a rainy morning with a hint of citrus and him, an intoxicating fragrance that he willed into his memory. 

Karys lowered her hands, sliding them along his forearms as she leaned back against him. Their eyes met in the mirror, longing plain as day in both of their expressions. 

“It won’t be forever,” she said softly, her grip on his arms tightening with reassurance. “When your task is done, and you’re finally free of him, I can bring you with me. I swear it.”

Felassan pressed a line of kisses along her shoulder, up the column of her neck to her ear. “Just so long as we leave that heinous mirror behind, I’ll follow you anywhere, _ma’vunlea._ ”

Her laughter rang out in the cottage, her head falling back against her shoulder as a testament to the sincerity of her amusement. With a shift in his arms, she turned to wrap her arms loosely around his neck, staring up into his face with adoration, and Felassan’s heart stuttered.

“Fine, we can leave the mirror,” she replied with a playful roll of her eyes. Her expression sobered as she glanced out one of the windows, likely noting the rising sun and the passage of what little time they had left. 

“Does he suspect anything?” Karys asked as her eyes slid back to his. He traced the edges of her ears, recalling his initial fascination with their smaller, more delicate shape when she finally bared her true self to him. There was no small part of Felassan that preened at knowing a wealth of things that Fen’Harel knew nothing about, even if those secrets were very likely to be the death of him if they were ever revealed.

“No, unless Mythal has decided to chase a whim and share your secret with Fen’Harel and destroy everything you’ve worked to achieve by aiding his rebellion,” he replied with a wry smile. Her warm eyes rolled, catching the morning light in the golden facets of her irises. 

“Her sense of self-preservation is strong enough to prevent that from happening, at least for the foreseeable millennia.” She pressed another soft kiss to his lips before stepping away from his embrace and into her leggings. “I checked the wards surrounding this clearing and the cottage yesterday. The Veil will not bring them down, no matter how thoroughly he fucks up his own plot. Should you ever need to flee, or begin your _uthenera_ unexpectedly, you will be safe here.”

He tried not to think about the endless line of questioning that would teeter on unbridled rage from Fen’Harel once it became known that one of his closest allies and one of his best spies vanished “while on a mission for Mythal.” Felassan was not blind to the longing looks his mentor and friend gave Karys when he thought no one was looking, either. Her disappearance would not simply be a tactical setback, but an emotional blow, no matter how dismissive she was about Fen’Harel’s feelings towards her. 

The rustling of a breeze passing through the trees around them filled the comfortable quiet between them as Felassan watched her pull on the leather boots she had hidden away beneath their shared bed. She flexed her foot, rolling her ankle to and fro as though remembering how to wear shoes after decades in footwraps, if anything at all. Satisfied, she rose from the bed and looked around the cottage. He watched her eyes flit from item to item, smiling to himself when her gaze lingered on things that held sentimental value and brusquely moving on when the memories attached were particularly unpleasant.

“Do you remember how to reach me when you’re ready?” she asked as she turned to face him once again. His eyes dropped to her hands, her fingers twisting the laces of his captive shirt absently—the only outward sign of her mounting panic. _She’s always terrible at goodbyes._

He ignored her question and moved to his cloak, fishing around one of the hidden pockets for the gift he had commissioned years ago. 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed as he drew his hands behind his back. A grin broke out on his face as her eyes narrowed in suspicion before she obeyed. The gift was a wholly unnecessary gesture; Felassan knew this. But having heard the stories of Karys’s people, their customs, their symbols of a bond between two lovers—he refused to let her continue into this period of separation without some physical reminder that his heart belonged to her, and her alone.

Felassan brushed a stray curl away from her face and tucked it behind her ear before trailing his fingers down her left arm, bringing her hand to his lips.

Kissing her fingers first, he slipped the delicate gold and silver band on her finger. “Open them.”

He could feel her hand tremble slightly in his hold, a knot forming in his stomach as doubts flooded his mind. Was this too presumptuous? Would she even like the design he had given the artisan?

Tears bloomed in her eyes as she looked at her hand, the twisted strands of gold and silver working their way around her finger until they embraced a cluster of amethysts that formed the shape of a nine-pointed star. 

Karys looked at him. “What… what the fuck?”

Felassan blinked in surprise. Then, he laughed before pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Her body melted into his, falling into familiar alignment before she pulled back slightly to frown.

“Felassan, what is this?” she asked him, waving the fingers of her left hand in his face.

“What does it look like to you?” he replied, earning a sharp pinch to his side. He yelped, but maintained his hold on her.

“Do not get smart with me, _felasil._ ” She dropped her forehead against his chest, hiding her face from him. “Why must you make this so much harder than it already is?”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before leaning back, holding her face between his hands to lock her gaze with his. His thumbs brushed away the traitorous tears that slipped down her cheeks.

“I know better than to think our lives will follow the plan we have set for ourselves, _ma vunlea_ ,” he said softly. “But I refuse to let you leave my sight without something to remind you of the man who is hopelessly and irrefutably yours, no matter how many centuries it takes before we are reunited.”

“Silver-tongued rogue,” she muttered before catching his lips with her own. Her kiss was laced with equal parts lust and sadness, her hands roaming his chest and back, as if committing every part of him to her memory. 

Not to be outdone, his fingers twisted themselves in her curls as he nipped her lower lip, eliciting a sweet, breathy moan from her before she obediently opened her mouth to him. He grinned against her mouth before teasing her tongue with his as he slowly pushed her back against the wall. His thigh wedged its way between her legs as his lips trailed down her neck to her collarbones, his teeth scraping across her skin lightly as she ground her core against his thigh with enough abandon to fray Felassan’s control. 

“Stay,” he growled against her rosy mouth. “Just one more night.”

Panting, Karys pulled back and pushed against his chest with her hands with a shake of her head. They both knew one more night wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough. 

He took a grounding step back, running his hands through his raven-black hair with slow, calming breaths. His blood was singing for her, his cock responding in kind. She let her head rest against the wall, her eyes closed as she caught her breath. The position did nothing to calm his need to touch her, but he willed himself still. The longer he delayed the inevitable, the worse it was going to be in the end. Sometimes, the way of the slow arrow wasn’t worth the agony it brought.

With clearer eyes, though still tinged with sadness, Karys pushed off the wall and took up her glaive from its resting spot in the corner, her aura resonating through single-room structure. Felassan nearly purred as he felt her aura tangle with his, the swell of his own magic buoying within. 

She pressed her palm against the wooden door and wordlessly sent a flare of magic against it. Exhaling slowly, she opened the door to reveal a bright, albeit foggy vista that was in no way the forest that surrounded their hidden home. The Crossroads felt, rather than looked familiar to Felassan; gone were the blossoming trees and golden light, but silhouettes of eluvians haunted the mist that crept along a soundless breeze.

Karys turned to him, cupping his cheek with her left hand and brushing her thumb along the lower part of his _vallaslin_. Nothing but love shone in her eyes as she smiled at him.

“I love you, Felassan.” She kissed him slowly, sweetly. “My heart will always belong to you, never forget that.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “ _Ar lath ma, vhen’an’ara._ I’ll see you sooner than you think.”

With one last kiss, salty from one or both of their tears, Karys stepped back and through the door. Her eyes never left his as she raised her glaive and let it strike the ground. Brilliant white threads erupted from the edges of the door, snaking their way to the handle and slowly—and eerily—closed the door.

* * *

She didn’t know how long she stood in front of the gateway, tears streaming down her face and knuckles white from the deathgrip she had on her glaive. It was the only thing keeping her upright at that moment, heartache threatening to bring her to her knees the second she attempted to relax her posture. 

Whatever it was, Karys knew without a doubt the second she turned away from that empty gateway, something would be waiting to fuck her over. Her sisters called her cynical and pessimistic; Remy simply sighed his disagreement. But Karys knew this feeling, the gnawing of worrying and prickling sensation of needles across her skin — she didn’t have Verena’s Sight, but Fate never felt pleasant, not to Karys.

Nor was it ever kind.

“You cannot avoid it, my darling.” She exhaled slowly through her nose, squeezing her eyes shut and praying to the Creator for this one _good_ thing to be left alone.

The soft, gentle hand of her mother touched her shoulder. Karys was shocked she managed not to flinch. She could feel them gathering, no doubt beckoned by her mother, the Weaver of Fate, as she was reverently called by all those in the Citadel.

“We’ve missed you, Kare.” Verena’s voice was soft, like she was soothing a frightened animal.

 _Don’t make me do this,_ she begged no one in particular. She knew in her bones it was futile. 

“Karys.” The Weaver’s voice was still kind, but the firm edge of her power slid across Karys’s composure and control. “Look at me.”

“Does it matter? If I don’t look at you, will you go away?” she asked, her voice tight and brittle. Sobs were building in her chest, panic gripping her heart. 

Her mother took her shoulders, turning her slowly. Karys kept her eyes screwed shut, refusing to comply with everything she had in her, but Cosima’s power was irrefutable. Fate gave no shits about what Karys wanted. 

Familiar fingers, roughened with callouses from training and countless wars, pried the glaive from her hand. Once it was freed from her grip, the same fingers laced themselves with hers. If Remy was called, it was never a good sign. Only a handful of people could handle Karys at the height of her emotions, two of them were on the otherside of the empty gateway.

Cosima gently grazed her cheek, wiping away the tears. “Fate cannot be denied, Karys.”

“Fate can go fuck itself.” Remy chuckled beside her and squeezed her hand. “Just get it over with.”

A soft sigh was the only preamble to the surge of power that flooded the Crossroads as Cosima allowed Fate to flow through her. Almost all were awed when faced with the conduit of Fate that was her mother, but to Karys, the primordial magic was nauseating. 

Karys opened her eyes, taking in the beacon of light that her mother had become. Verena and Isora stood on either side of her, their eyes trained on Karys, shining with equal parts concern and fear. Glancing to her right, she caught Remy bracing himself just as much as she was for the overdramatic delivery of prophecy that was about to happen.

What Karys did not prepare for, however, was the appearance of stone filling the archway that she had just passed through.

Panic surged within her. “No. No, stop it.”

She pushed Remy away and flung her magic against the ever-growing barrier. She knew what this was, she knew what it meant.

“Make it stop! Please!” she cried, pouring more magic into the gateway, trying to keep it open. She couldn’t breathe. The gate had to stay open. She couldn’t get to Felassan any other way. “Remy, help me!”

His body encased hers, but he made no move to help her. “I can’t do that, love.”

“Until the Wolf wakes to walk the consequences of his choices, this Gate shall be sealed,” Cosima intoned, her words ringing with a magic beyond Karys’s ability to control. “Karys Lifebringer, your destiny approaches, regardless of the paths you walk to evade it. The Balance cannot, and will not be ignored.”

As the last inch of the gateway filled with stone impervious to magic, time, and the strength of Karys’s hatred, the last ounce of her control shattered. A scream heavy with rage and sorrow pierced the muted silence of the Crossroads as her magic blasted forth, pushing Remy onto his back and threatening the stability of her sisters as they stood by their mother.

She’d never see him again, never feel him again. They had planned for a handful of years — worst-case scenario, decades. But Fate’s decrees endured for centuries, sometimes millennia. 

Clutching her left hand to her chest, she curled in on herself as she sobbed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 🤗 Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please don't hate me. Or this piece. 🙏🏻 I very much love the Dragon Age fandom and all the lore, but I also have been trying to work through the kinks of my own fantasy story and decided to do something relatively insane: write fanfiction to practice listening to my OCs and figuring out their odds and ends.
> 
> I'm sticking to canon to a degree, but filling in some gaps with my own lore and bending the canon to work within this alternate universe I've created 😬
> 
> Any feedback is absolutely welcome (and sought after)! xx - cayc


	2. Unsealed

Karys shuddered as she peeled off her armor, the leather and chainmail slick with blood and Kiln only knew what else. Her last mission had turned into a shitshow in no time flat, but she hardly remembered a mission that ever went how it was intended. At the very least, she hadn’t lost any Sentinels this time. 

A hiss escaped her as she gingerly removed her torn linen shirt, revealing the series of cuts that she’d hidden from her team. She hadn’t wanted any of them to worry over her, and had explicitly told the healers to prioritize the Sentinels before coming to check on her. Remy had narrowed his gray eyes at her, shoulders braced to a fight, but she had pulled rank on the healers and strode away, hiding every wince each step brought to her face.

Pulling her dark curls away from her face and into a loose chignon at the top of her head with nearby ribbon, Karys took a deep breath before calling up a healing spell. Well, a close approximation to a healing spell. She had lost count of the number of iterations of that exact spell she had had to create in order for it to work as often as she had used it. If there was one thing Karys was proficient in, it was finding loopholes in limitations.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The newest spell only worked so long as she re-experienced the pain of receiving each wound. As her muscles and skin knit themselves back together, sweat beaded on her brow as she bit back the whimpers and yelps that accompanied each stab and slice to her nerves. Fucking fuckity fuck, did it hurt.

“Well, that looks pleasant.” 

Karys closed her eyes against the worst of the wounds—a series of fractures to her ribcage—and ignored Remy as he crossed the room to push her hand away and flood her chest with his healing magic. 

“Why, for fuck’s sake, are you so stubborn?” he muttered as the pain dissipated, her bones fusing back together peacefully. Karys gripped his arm and shoulder as she sagged into his arms from relief. She had gotten too used to ignoring injuries, she forgot how much they actually hurt.

“Family trait,” Karys replied with a weak smile. Remy’s storm-gray eyes rolled as he scooped her up into his arms and made his way to her bedroom. She let her head rest against the crook of his neck, breathing in his sea breeze and sage scent. He had changed out of his Sentinel armor and into a soft, cotton shirt and pants, his supple leather boots barely making sound on the marble floors of her chambers. 

She could feel the concern in the way he held her, holding her to his chest to make sure she was there, that she was safe. 

“Some Scribes were looking for you in the infirmary,” he told her quietly as he laid her in her bed. The gossamer drapes of the canopy billowed gently in the breeze that filtered in from the open windows. The bed was one of the few utterly feminine touches in the set of rooms she had inhabited her entire existence. Delicate carvings of a variety of flowers climbed the four posters before disappeared beneath the white and lavender canopy. The pillows were plush and formed a formidable mountain at the head of the mattress, each one embroidered with flora and fauna, creating a glittering forest of pale green silk and gold thread. 

Remy sat on the edge of the bed, his hand habitually pushing some stray curls away from Karys’s high cheekbones and cognac gaze. She could tell he wanted to lay down with her, as they often did after missions, but his pure sense of duty pulled the threads of his magic taut.

“I told them to let you rest a few hours before bringing you to the Council room,” he said after a moment. “I’m heading there now, myself. Apparently the Weaver has new missions for us all, even though we’ve more than earned some rest after the last clusterfuck she sent us into.”

Karys snorted. “Mother has never been very good at pacing herself.”

Remy smiled, though it barely touched his eyes. They had been through so much together, seen so many of their friends cut down in the name of preserving the Balance. It had come as no surprise that they had found solace in each other after so many centuries of shouldering loss and pain alone. Rumors that the pair had bonded in secret were rampant throughout the Citadel, much to the chagrin of Karys’s sisters, Verena and Isora. But, at the end of the day, they were merely rumors. Yes, Remy shared her bed on several occasions, and yes, she knew she loved him, but it wasn’t a romantic love. It was a connection of souls that understood each other, one that saw one another, even underneath the masks they both wore to carry on.

Besides, he knew that her heart only belonged to one man, even after millennia apart.

“Get some rest and I’ll find you before I leave for the Crossroads again.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his thumb stroking her cheek gently before he pulled back and began to leave the room. His sandy blond hair looked almost golden in the light streaming into the room, the length of it braided down his back elegantly. He stole one more glance over his shoulder at her, something playful sparking in his eyes at last.

“Oh, and take a bath. You reek of demon guts,” he teased with a wink. 

Despite her screaming muscles, Karys pelted a decorative pillow at his head.

* * *

“I’m not sure I heard you correctly. You want me to do what?”

The Scribes present for the briefing between the Three straightened at their posts around the Council room. The Three were beings of incredible power, the primary guardians of the Balance that ruled every universe under the Maker’s purview. As the daughters of the Weaver and the Soul Keeper, they were highly respected among the Fae and the other denizens of the Citadel, who considered the women indisputable royalty among the others.

But, at the end of the day, they were also sisters.

Verena, the second-eldest, sighed. Chestnut hair was left loose around her shoulders, falling in an elegant sheet and framing her face. Of the Three, she bore the closest resemblance to their Father, Osterio the Soul Keeper, with defined cheekbones on a narrow face and straight nose with a softened point. Her russet brown eyes were rounder than those of her sisters, and keener when they focused on Karys.

“We need you to investigate the awakening of ancient Citadel relics back in Thedas,” Verena repeated, almost slowly. “As well as the cause of an explosion of magic that recently occurred on the surface.”

Karys narrowed her eyes, looking between Verena and their youngest sister, Isora. 

“Have we forgotten that I have been explicitly forbidden from returning to Thedas by our dear, old Mother?” Karys asked, barely keeping the acid from lacing her tone. “Because I sure as fuck haven’t.”

Isora rolled her eyes. “It’s been how many centuries, and you’re still upset about this?”

Karys’s white-knuckled grip on the arms of her chair threatened to crack the gilded oak, her magic crackling in the air as her fury rose. The Scribes shifted uncomfortably as the smell of ozone began to fill the room.

“Isora, I don’t think anyone needs to remind you of what happened the last time you dismissed Karys’s wrath, do they?” Verena inquired, her voice calm but ice-cold. 

A beatific smile split across Karys’s face as she vividly recalled the bloody sparring ring and a limp Isora strung up by the threads of her own magic. To placate the bruised ego of their youngest child, Cosima and Osterio sent Karys and her Sentinels through the Crossroads for a few centuries, but quietly acknowledged that the head-strong idiot brought the injuries upon herself.

The Third clenched her jaw, but said nothing, turning her chocolate gaze to the reports in front of her. Verena kept Isora pinned with her icy stare a moment longer before glancing back at Karys, her expression softer.

“Fate’s provisions have been met — the Wolf walks among the aftermath of his choice,” she explained, placing a gentle hand on Karys’s arm. “Mother has confirmed this and unsealed Thedas’s door, but... with conditions.”

Karys’s choked laugh sounded like shattered glass beneath heavy boots. “Of course there are fucking conditions. Nevermind that the only man I’ve loved could very well be dead after nearly five thousand years, I can’t even go collect the dust of his bones without additional punishment.”

Verena squeezed her arm tightly, giving her a moment to rein in the raw, broken hysteria mounting in her chest and throat. Even Isora looked up with softer eyes from across the table.

“Should you accept this task, your power will be diminished, matching that of the Wolf’s. It will only grow as his grows, and will only return fully when your Light touches Nightmare.” Verena’s eyes shone with golden light as her Sight spoke through her, her voice reverberating in Karys’s chest with power. “You will walk this path alone until you return to the Wolf’s den, where the pieces of your heart shall meet to protect the Balance, at whatever cost.”

Verena’s eyes dimmed to their usual hue, flicking to meet Karys’s with a small smile. “As far as conditions go, at least she didn’t prohibit your magic altogether?”

“I’ll be sure to send a thank-you note,” Karys replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. “How long ago was this explosion?”

Isora glanced at one of the Scribes, who stepped forward promptly with a wholly unnecessary salute. 

“A little over six weeks ago, milady. The moment the Seal was lifted, Scribes began collecting the information we lacked and learned of the incident while establishing our positions throughout the existing civilizations, as per protocol.”

Karys absently toyed with the ring on her left hand. “And what information have you gathered regarding Fen’Harel and his location?”

“Preliminary reports say that a being called Fen’Harel has been relegated to myth as a god of betrayal among the modern elves, a tribe calling themselves the Dalish. He has not been seen in Thedas since the fall of Elvhenan, but an elf matching the last-recorded description of Fen’Harel has joined an newly-founded coalition within Thedas. Their encampment is in a small village called Haven, near the site of the explosion.”

She doubted that his appearance near a magical explosion that caught the attention of the Weaver was pure coincidence. Rubbing her temples against the threat of a headache that was forming, she closed her eyes. Too many emotions were bubbling to the surface as a result of the last twenty minutes, making it nearly impossible for her to try and think through next steps.

Verena, with her uncanny talent for guessing Karys’s thoughts, rose from her seat at the table, signaling the end of the briefing. 

“Mother would like you to be on the ground no later than midday tomorrow. There is speculation from the Scribes that the explosion has torn multiple gateways to the Well open throughout—”

Karys’s head snapped up. “Is that even possible?”

Isora rolled her eyes. “How are we supposed to know that? It’s your domain, hence the reason you’re being sent to investigate.”

A rude gesture was thrown in Isora’s direction, sparking a coughing fit from one of the observing Scribes. Isora returned the gesture in kind. 

“For now, your Sentinels will continue their normal duties, ferrying Scribes and Architects. The exception being Remy, who we are sending to check on all the First Colonies to ensure that what is happening in Thedas is an isolated incident.”

Karys stood up and made her way to the door, glancing at Isora from over her shoulder. “Have your Scribes send me whatever they’ve got so far about the current state of Thedas within the hour. If I’m going to return with both hands tied behind my back, I’d prefer not to be blind on top of that.”

Isora nodded as she waved her away. “Yeah, yeah. Order has already been sent through.”

“I’ve also asked my Architects to provide you with updated supplies,” Verena said as she met Karys by the door. “They’ll be sent to your rooms by this evening.”

The pair waved a silent farewell to their youngest sibling before exiting the room together. As they made their way down the corridor, Verena slid her arm around Karys’s shoulders in comfort. Karys squeezed the hand at her left shoulder in silent gratitude as she was escorted back to her rooms. 

“I will help you however I can,” Verena murmured as they separated in front Karys’s room. “Isora will as well. If either of us learn anything about Fel—”

“Please, don’t say his name. I’m barely keeping it together as it is,” Karys interrupted, her voice tight. “I appreciate the help, truly.”

Verena nodded once before kissing her cheek lightly and then continuing on her way. 

Karys entered her rooms silently, flicking her wrist to shut the door behind her before crawling into her bed. Knees tucked to her chest, she drew a shaky breath, the sobs close to the surface as she slowly loosened her deathgrip on her emotions.

How long had she been praying for this day? How many nights had she spent recreating their cottage in her dreams, knowing it was the only way she was going to be able to feel close to him again?

She didn’t hear Remy as he entered her room, the ugly sounds of her gasping for breath between sniffles and sobs the only thing she registered. It wasn’t until he pulled her against him, soothing her as best he could with gentle rocking and murmurs that she realized she wasn’t alone in the dark anymore.

They had buried countless friends and lovers over the years together. She doubted he could count the nights they had spent comforting each other as their hearts bled and shattered, time and time again. They had agreed they were masochists of the worst kind — immortal beings all too happy to give their hearts to others, only to sweep up the shards after death claims their loved ones and then repeat the cycle as if the outcome would be different the next time around.

According to Isora, Remy and Karys were the embodiments of insanity.

“Verena found me,” Remy said once Karys’s sobs eased into hiccups. “She told me where you’re headed tomorrow.”

Karys knew he wasn’t expecting any responses. They had mastered the art of grieving together long ago.

“You know how to find me.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Duty be fucking damned, if you call, I will come to you.”

Hiccups melted into shuddering breaths. She took the proffered tissue silently and mopped up the accumulation of snot on her face. His palms never stopped rubbing her back slowly, gently.

“I’ve had dinner arranged to be sent up this evening — prime rib, triple the desserts. The Architects have dropped off your supplies already, they’re by the door.” He handed her another tissue. “Once we’ve finished Phase 3 of Emotional Breakdowns, let’s take a nice, long bath and then repack your supplies with the necessary hair and skin products. You’re returning to a place with scarce running water and the hygiene of Terra-45’s medieval period. Gotta soak up the luxury while you can.”

Karys’s chuckle sounded like gravel being thrown against a wall, but it made Remy smile all the same. He had joined her a year after the gate was sealed, completely unaware of the pit of grief that ate away at her daily. But, for some reason, he never shied away from it all, and she thanked the Creator for the small mercy of Remy’s friendship.

“I love you, Karys Lifebringer, Bane of Isora’s Existence, Dancer of All Realms, Queen of Sarcasm Through Smiles, and Keeper of the Deadliest Glares,” Remy said after a moment. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up to go reclaim your heartmate.”

She gave up on hope lifetimes ago, choosing to protect her heart as much as she could. But for the briefest moment, as she left Remy carry her into the bathing room and draw the bath, she felt hope flicker. 


	3. Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note about elvhen popping up in this fic: [ FenxShiral ](/users/FenxShiral/) and their [Project Elvhen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true) are godsends, but my faith in my ability to cobble together coherent dialogue entire in elvhen is nonexistent. So, any constant dialogue in elvhen will appear as _"italicized quotes"_.

_Why the_ fuck _are these bears so_ fucking _fast?_

Karys seethed internally as she leapt over fallen trees and dodged boulders to escape her furry pursuers. Her glaive bounced brutally against her spine as she followed her momentum, catching her stumbles over snow-hidden roots and brush to push on as the snarling beasts somehow kept gaining ground.

Her elf-heightened sense smell caught the scent of smoke and horse shit drifting through the forest from the East. Karys had never been more grateful to get a whiff of shit in her life. Veering east, Karys ignored her burning thighs and calves, pushing on as fast as she could in hopes that she had finally found the settlement she had been aimlessly searching the Frostbacks for.

A new chorus of snarls burst out of the snow-laden trees to her right — a pack of teeth-baring wolves joined the nearly comical stampede barreling towards what Karys could only assume was a _very_ unsuspecting Haven.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!” Karys screeched as she flung a meager fireball at the new additions. The pack barked and yipped, their demeanor shift to one of almost-playfulness as they took in her scent as if they had been waiting for her. The alpha, a charcoal and white female, fell into step with Karys while the rest of the pack fanned out into a pointless formation as the bears thundering after her continued the frenzied charge.

“Why don’t you... do something... _useful_ and fetch... your stupid Elvhen... alpha for me, huh?” Karys gasped between bitter-cold gulps of air.

Fuck running. Fuck everything to do with extended forms of cardio exercise, but running held firm at the top of that list.

With a dramatic howl, the alpha female bolted forward with her pack, their harmonic chorus ringing in the air as they passed Karys.

“And fuck you for showing off!” Karys yelled after them.

The knee-high snow swiftly gave way to a weaving network of footpaths, which only allowed the monsters that looked like bears but in no way could be bears to gain ground faster as the paths leveled out the closer Karys got to the outer walls of Haven. If her life weren’t in immediate and obvious danger, she would have laughed herself hoarse at the instant scattering of people from the training grounds and recruit campsite at the first rabid bellow from the beasts.

“ON YOUR LEFT!” a man with a lion’s mane and silver armor yelled, his amber eyes wide as he charged at her with a handful of others. Without bothering to see what he meant, flung herself to the right, protecting her head as best she could while her right shoulder hit solid ground, rolling her body away from the chaos as much as possible.

Karys barely registered the roaring, grunting, and cheers that she assumed were related to defeating those so-called bears. Instead, she was trying to pull whatever was left of her mana into some semblance of a healing spell to relieve the piercing pain that accompanied breathing after undoubtedly cracking some ribs on the rocks she thought she missed. The threads of the spell continually slipped out of her grasp just as the pain of all the other injuries she somehow incurred while running for her life came flaring to the forefront.

“You okay there, kiddo?” a gruff but genuinely concerned voice asked from above her. Karys willed her eyes open and struggled to focus on the speaker whilst also remaining conscious.

“Definitely been better,” she wheezed. Fire seared her chest and lungs as she inhaled. “And definitely... older than you… think.”

The edges of her vision dimmed and blurred as her head throbbed. A concussion was imminent.

“Karys?” She knew that voice, that melodic accent. The familiar face swam into the narrow tunnel of her vision, sinfully full lips drawn into concerned frown but silver eyes wide with shock. “Are you injured anywhere?”

She felt the soothing tingle of his healing magic brush against her head. “Fucking... _everywhere_.”

A gruff chuckle sounded on her right. “We should probably get her inside, Chuckles.”

Karys couldn’t help but whimper as she felt her body lifted up and cradled in surprisingly gentle arms. Between over-fatigued muscles in every part of her body, the cracked ribs, and whatever gave her the concussion, every tiny jostle sent lances of pain through every nerve she had.

“We’re almost there, my friend.” The familiar lilt of elvhen cut through the throbbing headache and the dull ringing in her ears. A dramatic shift in temperature for the warmer distracted her from the pain for the smallest moment. She bit back a groan as her body was laid out on a bed. A hand smoothed hair away from her face, soothing healing magic following in its wake. The headache thudding against her skull eased, bringing a blissful smile to her face.

Her eyes fluttered open and took in the familiar look of concentration on Solas’s face as his hands hovered around her ribs. Inhaling brought about significantly less pain the longer his hands fed magic into the bones until a contented sigh escaped her lips.

His lips twitched at the corners in a suppressed smile. “Better?”

“I’ve been running from those monstrosities since that charred crater to the West. Every muscle in my body is on fire, even breathing hurts.” That suppressed smile threatened his countenance again. “The mere idea of lifting my finger is exhausting.”

Before Solas had the chance to retort, a brusque knock sounded at the door of the cabin she had been taken to. Any trace of a smile found itself buried beneath a millennia-old mask of indifference as Solas stepped away from her prone form to open the door.

Karys closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, taking a moment to gauge what remains of her mana after half-assed attack spells and the asinine bindings Necessity shackled to her magic. Teleporting and spell-weaving were completely out of the question, and she had very limited access to the Well’s raw magic, maybe only enough mana to pull a few seconds of blasting or a minute of dual daggers. Luckily, the spells used by mages in Thedas were directly linked to the Well — meaning she could use them without limitations.

“How may I assist you, Seeker? Herald?” he asked, the politeness in his tone hiding the undercurrent of disdain that only those who had spent decades, maybe centuries in Solas’s company would be able to discern.

She glanced in the direction of the door, surprised to see him allowing the two human women to enter. The taller of the two had a face that seemed to be etched into a permanent frown, elegantly arched brows inching further together as her gaze landed on Karys. Sophisticated Frown’s companion, on the other hand, had a more jovial face; rich brown eyes regarded Karys with curiosity, a grin easing itself across her face.

The younger woman also had a curious amount of black and emerald threads hovering around the palm of her left hand. One or two of them trailed delicately towards Solas, joining up with the invisible cocoon of identical colors that made up his magic.

“The woman we saved from the bears,” Sophisticated Frown replied, the volume of her voice much louder than necessary for a conversation being held indoors, “who is she?”

“Cassandra, I think you mean, ‘how is she?’” the younger woman remarked as she leaned against the wall by the door. Cassandra sighed, shooting her companion a dark look.

“Yes, yes, how is she?” Cassandra corrected. Solas returned to the bed, sparing Karys the briefest glance that told her absolutely nothing, before scanning her body for injuries again with his magic.

“She has been responding well to my healing magic,” Solas replied calmly. “She had sustained some cracked ribs and a concussion after dodging the bear’s lunge, but those injuries have been healed. I believe all that’s left is for her to rest while her muscles recover from the exertion. According to her, she had been trying to evade the bears since she passed by the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

The mention of the temple seemed to jolt Cassandra into an even more tense stance, if that were even possible. The towering woman moved to stand over Karys, but was smoothly intercepted by the grinning woman by the door.

“Now, now, Cass,” the woman chided, “as wonderful as your bedside manner is when you have questions you want answers to, I think we ought to let Solas finish making sure she’s all right first.”

Cassandra gave an impressive snort of disapproval but backed away all the same.

As the last of Solas’s healing magic faded from her calves, Karys took a deep breath before willing her body to move into a seated position. She exhaled with a slow hiss as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and let her elbows rest on her knees.

“Thank you, Solas,” Karys murmured. She met his gaze, noting the mix of curiosity, joy, and something more melancholy in his eyes. _“Are they allies? Because the taller one looks a lot like the bear that chased me out of the mountains.”_

Chuckling, Solas moved from his kneeling position on the floor to sit beside her on the bed. The space between them was minimal — an intentional placement, if Karys knew Solas at all.

 _“Yes, for now,”_ he replied in the same calm tone he had given to Cassandra. He turned his gaze to the two women who were watching them. “You have some questions, Seeker?”

Cassandra’s eyes moved from Solas to Karys slowly. “Yes, first, who is she?”

Karys fought the urge to roll her eyes. “She is called Karys, Seeker. She is also quite capable of answering questions herself.”

“Oh, I like her,” the other woman remarked with a bright smile. She stepped around Cassandra and held out her hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you, Karys. My name is Amara Trevelyan, but you can call me Mara.”

Karys took Mara’s hand — the one that didn’t glow a suspicious green, pleasantly surprised by the feel of callouses on her palm. The woman had the diction of an elegant lady, but the looseness of a rogue and the hands of a swordsman.

“So, how do you know Solas?” Mara asked, cutting off Cassandra’s barely started interrogation. “He seemed thoroughly surprised to find you in the snow.”

Karys opened her mouth to regurgitate the backstory she had drilled into her memory before landing back in Thedas, but Solas cut her off with a hand to her thigh.

Ordinarily, the gesture from any other person would earn the daring dipshit a sharp slap or a magical toss across the room. But with Solas, things had always been… complicated. Her public role in Arlathan as Solas’s favorite handmaiden and her private relationship with Felassan necessitated flexible boundaries when it came to flirtation and physical contact. Those lines had always been silently acknowledged and respected by both men, but always with a modicum of unease.

“She is someone very important to me,” Solas replied, his tone shifting ever so slightly away from placid to warm, nearly... emotional. “Someone I have not seen for quite some time.”

Mara and Cassandra stared, brows raised at the pair of them, giving Karys the chance to collect her thoughts and try to regain control of the narrative being told. It was rare for him to inject that much honesty into an untruth. Their audience clearly required such a drastic manipulation if he was willing to immediately insinuate such intimacy. Dusting off the familiar role of Fen’Harel’s favorite, Karys put her hand over Solas’s and squeezed.

“Careful, _ha’hren_ ,” she cooed. “You’ll give them the wrong impression, saying things like that.”

Avoid labels, dance around the lines between lovers and friends. Karys massaged that mantra back into her mind — she wore confidence like a fine silk gown, spun tales out of threads of truth and lies. How many ages passed playing the role of someone else?

“Wait, Solas, is she your lover?” Cassandra asked. The excitement in her voice worried Karys, since the last thing she needed was someone slapping that kind of inescapable label on an act that the duo had mastered over centuries. It was also very odd to hear such enthusiasm for romance from a woman whose irritable gaze could sear a steak.

Karys looked at Solas with a soft smile, decidedly ignoring the question. “Solas taught me everything I know about the Fade and magic. We had been traveling with each other for years, exploring the Fade together until we were separated.”

He returned her smile with a small one of his own. He carried himself with far more reserve than he had before, calm and poise thick walls caging in a historically tempestuous wolf. The signs of exhaustion were faintly etched around his eyes, where a shadow of something Karys couldn’t quite pin lingered, despite the sincerity of his smile.

“I was making my way along the Frostbacks from Edgehall, following a series of memories in the Fade when I finally came across the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I sensed a strangeness in the Veil and the Fade, and before I could even attempt to enter the look around, those fucking bears charged into the ruins and started to chase me with much more focus and intent than any other bear I’ve ever encountered.”

Solas made a soft noise of assent. “Rifts created by the Breach have been affecting nearby wildlife, allowing for a form of possession.”

Demonic bears. Karys frowned and made a mental note to warn the Scribes. The last thing anyone needed was Isora going on a rampage because her people were being mauled by demonic bears.

Cassandra rubbed her chin in thought before dropping her shoulders slightly.

“One apostate causes enough unrest, but two?” She sighed. “If you are a companion of Solas’s, then perhaps you can aid in his research. That should assuage any complaints from Chantry member and the Templars in our camp. Just make sure she is introduced to Josephine, Solas, to ensure her name is added to our records.”

Mara cleared her throat, eyes twinkling with a level of mischief that Karys both admired and worried about. “And don’t think we didn’t notice how you failed to answer the question about being lovers, either.”

Before she could give into the temptation of zapping the woman with a tiny shock spell, Solas squeezed Karys’s hand. He stood and ushered the women from his cabin with quiet promises to make the necessary introductions while she sat on the bed silently.

The second the door was closed, Solas flung a series of silencing wards at each wall of the cabin before tossing aside his mask of composure to stare openly at Karys.

“How did you…? I thought you were dead,” Solas said after what felt like a years-long moment of silence. “We all did.”

Karys ignored the white-hot stab of fear that hit her heart at the comment. “Mythal sent me to observe some questionable activity in the Deep Roads. She worried that Elgar’nan was getting closer to the Forgotten Ones. As I was on my way back to report what I had seen, Mythal intercepted me, told me that my destiny was not yet fulfilled, stripped me of my _vallaslin_ , and sent me into _uthenera_ , very much against my will.”

She channeled the millennia of worry and guilt for leaving Felassan behind into her movements as she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.

“I woke up in the Korcari Wilds a few weeks ago,” she continued, her eyes trained on the floorboards as she spoke. Solas remained as still as a statue by the door, the intensity of his gaze ice-cold against her skin. “Everything felt… wrong. I couldn’t pull from the Fade as easily as I once could, which I figure is a result of the Veil, but damn. I’ve never felt so weak.”

Never mind the fact that her capacity for magic had been ruthlessly constricted by Cosima’s stupid conditions.

“Everything is so very different from the last time I walked this world,” she murmured with a shake of her head.

This was hardly the first time that Karys returned to a world to find such dramatic changes in culture and population. If anything, she’d have been more concerned if nothing had changed. But she had left so much of herself in Thedas, in the care of Felassan...

She raised her head, meeting Solas’s eyes. His stormy-gray eyes were rife with more emotions than Karys was used to seeing, a notion that filled her with a leaden sense of apprehension.

“Where is Felassan?” she asked, a note of pleading sneaking into her voice. “We agreed to meet at a safe house if things got bad, across the Frostbacks near the Arbor Wilds, but I couldn’t find any eluvians when I woke up — everything is just gone.”

Genuine panic gripped her voice as Solas stared at her without a word, nameless emotions darkening his eyes. She had spent the better part of a millennia dragging the shattered pieces of her heart back together after Cosima had forbidden her return to Thedas. It had taken twice as much time to block every catastrophic scenario surrounding Felassan’s odds of survival from popping into her head at any given moment. Now, she sat before the one person who could answer her questions, and she couldn’t breathe, let alone form the questions she ached to ask.

Ignoring her protesting body, she stood up and approached Solas, her arms instinctively crossing as a defensive reflex. “Please tell me, where is he?”

 _“Ir abelas, lethal’lan.”_ Her heart cracked and she wondered if Solas heard it. Panic started prickling across her skin, her thoughts slipping into the giant black hole of worst-case scenarios that had taken her decades to bury into the back of her mind.

“I have not seen him since waking up in this world,” Solas said gently. The shattering of her heart slowed slightly at the implied hope being offered.

Karys gripped his forearms, her eyes wide and pleading. “But you’ve begun looking for him, haven’t you?”

Whatever sliver of vulnerability Solas had shared without his usual mask of indifference faded away behind a new mask of gentle neutrality — a decidedly worse emotion to be scrutinized with.

“There is much at stake, _falon_.” His hands took hers, squeezing them. “You have slept through millennia of changes.”

She swallowed her icy retort about priorities and took a slightly stabilizing breath. In a sense, he wasn’t wrong; she had a giant gap in knowledge, and despite how her heart ached to know where its mate was — if he still lived, she tabled the inquiry for later when her only source of information had recovered from her reappearance.

“Not to mention the giant hole in the sky that’s leaking demons.” Solas allowed himself a small, wry smile. “The one you called the Herald — her hand is lit up with your magic. How?”

A flash of annoyance crossed his expression before it evened out again. She had forgotten how tiring it was, reading his emotions of his body language alone.

“The Herald of Andraste earned her title by stumbling out of the Fade, her hand glowing as it does now.” He smoothed his palm over the skin of his scalp. “The magic that somehow embedded itself into her hand was killing her. Seeker Pentaghast was fortunate I was nearby; I managed to soothe the magic and contain it with a few complex wards. That is probably what you noticed.”

A human walked out of the Fade with magic seared into her hand? Of course, it was killing her. Considering the Fade — or rather, the Well — only tolerated beings of its making, Cosima, and Karys (most of the time), it didn’t surprise her that the magic she stepped out with was deadly.

 _And if I weren’t a few breaths shy of a human right now, I could easily untangle the spell and return the magic._ Karys sent a searing “prayer” to her mother before stepping away from Solas to begin pacing.

“How often do you have to reapply the wards?” she asked as she took internal stock of her strength and abilities. Spell-weaving was definitely out of the question, but interacting with the threads didn’t seem to use too much of her mana. Perhaps she could talk Solas through the process of releasing the magic? She’d never tried teaching someone her ways, but the longer she lived, the more she stopped believing in impossibilities.

Solas watched her pace, his hands clasped behind his back. “Every few weeks. Her tolerance for pain is much higher than most, so she tends to wait until she’s nearly incapacitated to come to me for aid.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in slight amusement. Remy would have slit her throat if she ever let anything get that bad.

“Do you think they’d let me examine it?”

“I don’t see why not.” She caught the tail end of a rare eye roll. “They’ll do anything to protect their ‘savior.’”

She paused her pacing to regard him with curiosity. “Why are you here?”

“The Veil is the last line of defense against the Evanuris,” he replied after a moment. She could tell he was hesitant to trust her — to trust anyone. What could he have seen in his Fadewalking that made his so wary?

His answer was hardly satisfactory, but she knew better than to press for details. He would share when he felt he could trust her once again.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked, redirecting the conversation. “Specifically, an explanation for how we know each other and how you’ve evaded being tossed into a Circle?”

She looked at him, mock innocence heavy on her face as she batted her eyelashes at him. The overtly coquettish expression earned her a grin that was anything but charmed.

“But, _ha’hren_ , isn’t that your job?” she jabbed back. “You’re the one that gave us away, after all. We could have easily pretended to be strangers and therefore kept entirely separate stories.”

A smirk appeared as his eyes narrowed at her accusation.

“Forgive me my astonishment when a woman I had written off as dead reappears thousands of years after the fact.”

Karys shrugged. “Still your fault.”

He rolled his eyes, but ignored her childish retort. “I found you in the Fade after joining the Inquisition, hoping you would come aid me with my research. There are so few of us who can traverse the Fade in our dreams and recall everything we find, and your gift in this area benefits our goals.”

“As for avoiding the Circles, I spent a majority of my youth traveling with you after a chance meeting in the woods, up until a year ago. I returned to my family home in Nevarra to attend my parents’ funerals.” She pulled at a curl over her shoulder and twisted it idly as the story spun itself. “As the eldest, I ran our family’s shop while sorting out the family’s affairs. That’s when you found me in my dreams again.”

Karys frowned as she looked around the room, eyes scanning for her glaive and supplies. “Did they take my things?”

A bubble of panic rose. His shirt was rolled up in her pack — the pack she had sprinted from when the bears appeared.

No.

 _No, no, no_.

Wide-eyed, she whirled to face Solas, whose expression molded into concern. “Sister Leliana took your glaive, mistaking it for a mage’s staff. That was the only item on you when you arrived."

“Fuck.” The anxiety she had ignored earlier soared as she bolted for the door, sending tremors through her body and threatening her eyes with tears. “I need to go get it. I need my pack!”

A firm but kind grip held her in place by her upper arms before she could throw open the door of the cabin. Likely to avoid shattering the privacy Solas’s ward was currently providing to their impossible to explain conversation.

“Karys, stop.”

“Solas, I have to go get my things!” She twisted in his grasp, ignoring the aches in her body as she did so. “I had — please, his shirt… I kept his shirt with me!”

He released her immediately, as if he touched molten metal. A muscle spasm in her calf brought her to her knees, dragging a sob from her throat.

A thousands of years old, thread-bare shirt. That was all that remained of a love that burned beyond anything she had ever known. Verena had offered to have it recreated for her, but she’d turned that down every time; a replica wasn’t the same as the shirt he had worn at the end. Even Isora had understood her attachment, and she rarely understood anything that Karys valued.

“You can recreate a shirt, but you can’t recreate the memories woven into the spirit of the original,” Isora had said with soft eyes. “Very few understand what that means, and those who do are mocked for their sentimentality.”

She was engulfed in elfroot and parchment as Solas embraced her, drawing her body against his as the tears held back by years of stubbornness flowed freely. His warmth wasn’t the comfort she wanted; he didn’t smell like cedar and lavender, or feel like the warmth of sunshine on her skin after a cool breeze.

Everything she had ever loved always ended up leaving her. It was an awful, endless cycle. One that dug its talons into her heart and yanked gleefully when she least expected.

“I’ll send someone to collect your pack,” Solas murmured. His voice was gentle, but she could heart the brittle edge of sadness as well. “When you’re ready, we’ll go to Leliana and collect your glaive. I promise.”

Despite being intimately familiar with time, she lost track of it as they sat curled into and around each other. Her head throbbed from too much crying, her nose thoroughly plugged up by a severe amount of snot. Her eyes felt as puffy as she knew they looked. She didn’t even want to consider the wet spots her emotional breakdown left on Solas’s sweater.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Karys released her death grip on his shirt and dared to look up at him. His eyes were staring off into the distance, though she could tell his consciousness was still here, not in the Fade.

She gently tugged on the wolf mandible tied around his neck. On any other person, the appearance of a bone accessory would be highly troubling; on Solas, it was simply curious.

His gaze flicked down to meet hers, an eyebrow arched in the question he didn’t bother asking out loud.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get some food?” she asked, slowly beginning to disentangle herself from his embrace.

Solas watched her as she splashed some cool water on her face in a vain attempt to reduce the swelling of around her eyes. This is why she hated crying; there was absolutely no way to appear remotely attractive before, during, or afterwards.

“I suppose we ought to go introduce you to Ambassador Montilyet, as the Seeker suggested.” He brushed the back of his pants gently, removing the dirt and leaves he’d collected. “After that, we can talk to Sister Leliana about your items on our way to the tavern.”

He surveyed her with a shrewd look, a frown tugging at his lips. “Did you bring anything warmer with you?”

Karys shot him a dark look. “Do you _think_ I woke up after thousands of years with a fully updated wardrobe or access to any of my funds from a civilization that has apparently collapsed?”

A ghost of a grin touched his expression, earning him a swift smack to the arm. The grin bubbled up into a chuckle as he offered pulled a second cloak from the chest at the end of his bed.

“Use this for now. Perhaps we can use your appearance as an excuse to secure new supplies from Val Royeaux, along with a few books I need.” She wrapped herself up in the cloak, grateful for the light fennec lining beneath the waterproofed hide.

Solas opened the door of the cabin, glancing at her over his shoulder as he bitter cold nipped at her cheeks and ears. “Ready?”

Inhaling slowly, Karys nodded before following Solas out into the evening air.

Haven was smaller than she had expected, and the Inquisition even smaller than that. The organization was in its infancy, which was abundantly clear considering their current infirmary sat dangerously close to the latrines and the number of recruits matching that of the resident population. She could practically see the thin thread of hope the mortals around her clung to.

Doubt of the Inquisition’s long-term success burrowed into her thoughts as she followed Solas towards the central building that he had identified as the Chantry.

All religious buildings somehow looked the same to her, even universes apart: looming and unfriendly, packed the rafters with judgment and pride. It didn’t help that many of the religions she had seen rise and fall throughout the ages all insisted on decorating their officials with utterly stupid headwear, which just made them all the more easy to identify and assassinate.

She was caught up watching a trio of Chantry officials titter to themselves when Solas ushered her into the building. A subtle waft of warmth began thawing her thighs, the bizarre, itchy feeling of her bearskin leggings unsticking from her skin a mild relief. The humans surrounding them within the Chantry walls didn’t bother to spare them a glance; she couldn’t decide if it was more insulting or advantageous. Being considered an inferior being did make it easier to pass through the populace unnoticed.

Solas paused outside of a door to the immediate left of what looked like to be the primary council room, towards the back of the Chantry. He knocked politely, before placing his hands at his back in a picture of scholarly sophistication and pretentiousness. Karys rolled her eyes at the posturing.

“Come in!” The voice that beckoned them was lightly accented and surprisingly pleasant, given the dismal surroundings.

Karys entered the small office and found herself surprised at just how cozy it felt, with its plush furnishings and piles of books and correspondence across all the visible surfaces. She couldn’t suppress a smile at the sight, reminded of her own desk and the exasperated looks her sisters often gave her whenever they decided to pop in to visit.

“Ah, you must be the young elf Cassandra mentioned,” the beautiful women behind the central, large desk remarked with a polite smile. The canary yellow of her silk blouse was shocking, but somehow didn’t look completely ridiculous on the dark skinned beauty. Her accent was lilting, the words sliding together in harmony as she spoke in Common.

Karys sketched a curtsy, lifting imaginary skirts with a flourish. “I’m not as young as I think most people assume, but I appreciate the compliment all the same. Please, call me Karys.”

The woman’s smile grew a little warmer. “Pleasure to meet you, Karys. I am Josephine Montilyet, Ambassador of the Inquisition. It’s my understanding that you will be assisting Solas in his research on the Breach and it’s magical impacts?”

“That’s why I traveled this way to find him,” Karys replied. She looked up at him, willing a faint blush to tint her cheeks at the intense look he was pinning her with for the sake of selling their purposefully ambiguous relations. “When I saw the Breach appear, my gut told me that Solas would give anything to study it, given his fascination with the Fade.”

His hand warmed the small of her back as he stood by her. “I taught Karys everything I know about the Fade, and she is familiar with my methods of study and research. Her help would prove invaluable.”

Josephine watched the pair with unreadable hazel eyes. The ambassador had the shrewd eyes of a falcon, despite her charmed smile and polite cadence.

“I am also happy to assist the Inquisition in other ways as well.” She tucked a curl behind her ear as she lowered her eyes. “I’m fairly good with languages, having spent a lot of time traveling Thedas with Solas, but also helping out at my family’s shop in Cumberland. I think Solas can attest that I get a little bullheaded about translating original manuscripts when I come across texts I believe will be useful.”

Solas snorted. “I believe that would be considered an understatement, _da’len_. You spent a fortnight muttering in a mix of Tevene and Elvhen while attempting to transcribe a tome on runes.”

The ambassador cocked her head as she regarded Karys. _“Vous parlez l’orlesian?”_

 _“Oui, mademoiselle. Je parle couramment l’orlesian,”_ she replied with a small smile. Being Fae came with a myriad of perks, omniligualism was certainly the greatest of them. It made games like the one Josephine was attempting to play significantly more entertaining.

_“¿Has pasado mucho tiempo en Antiva?”_

_“Lamentablemente, no tanto como me gustaría.”_ Joesphine’s smile shifted out of polite interest to something warmer. _“Én is beszélni Nevarran.”_

“It’s so lovely to hear more than just the Common Tongue again,” Josephine sighed wistfully. “While I’m certain Leliana would find your skillset helpful when it comes to translating correspondence, I may call upon you to assist when we eventually have foreign delegations.”

Karys sketched a bow. “Happy to be of service, ambassador. I take it that means I won’t be chased away?”

“Certainly not.” The woman made a swift note on the ledger in front of her. “I’m sure Solas can explain the particulars, but wages will be distributed monthly. You can come to me to collect them, and I will hold onto the funds in the event that you are away from Haven.”

Karys nodded, her fingers absently pulling on a curl. “Will I be called away often?”

“If the Herald’s interest in you is any indication,” Solas replied, “I imagine you’ll be accompanying us more often than not.”

Josephine let her chin rest on her palm, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “The speculation surrounding the relationship between you two has likely torn through Haven by now.”

Karys laughed as Solas sighed. “I told you to be more careful with your words, _ha’hren_.”

Ignoring her comment, Solas looked at Josephine. “Despite what rumors will arise, I feel it would be safest for Karys to reside with me. At least until her position with the Inquisition is more firmly established.”

The ambassador nodded in agreement, making another note in the ledger. Somehow, Karys got the feeling that Leliana wasn’t the only spymaster within the Inquisition.

“I’d also like to request permission to head to Val Royeaux to acquire some books from arcane dealers within the city,” Solas continued. “As well as get Karys some personal items. It seems most of her belongings were sold to pay for her travels.”

The lie was accompanied with an annoyed glance, which she responded to with a sheepish grin.

“It’s not entirely my fault,” she replied defensively. “My pack wasn’t exactly the top of my priorities when I was running away from those bears.”

As if the thought finally occurred to her, Karys looked at Josephine with wide eyes.

“Speaking of which, would you happen to know where my glaive has gone? Or if I could go back to the Temple to see if my pack is still there?”

Josephine frowned slightly as she lowered her pen. “I’m certain Leliana would know the whereabouts of your staff, and she may have already sent scouts to the Temple ruins to collect your things. She’s quite thorough.”

_Meaning, she’s highly suspicious and will have already gone through your things to figure you out and make an assumption ahead of actually getting to know you._

"And as luck would have it, the Herald will be traveling to Val Royeaux in three days to meet with Chantry officials. I imagine she would be happy to have you among her travel companions. Her Orlesian leaves something to be desired." 

A pleasant smile hid her inner thoughts as she clapped her hands together in a perfect imitation of the ditzy Citadel courtiers that plagued her parents’ court.

“Wonderful! Solas, can you introduce me to Sister Leliana?” He nodded, placing his hand at the small of her back to guide her back towards the door. Karys caught Josephine’s catlike smile at the gesture. Haven’s rumor mill was about to get more fuel for the fire.

She chirped a farewell to the ambassador before looping her arm through Solas’s elbow, earning a sharply raised brow in question. She ignored him as they made their way out of the Chantry, instead letting her eyes roam the main hall as she listened to the barely-hushed whispers of the other Chantry members.

“ _Another_ knife-ear?”

“I heard that this one is his lover.”

“What does it say about the Inquisition if they’re welcoming apostate mages?"

 _“They really make it easy to eavesdrop, don’t they?”_ Karys remarked as they stepped back out into the cold evening. Solas huffed a chuckle.

 _“I don’t believe they particularly care if we can hear them attempt to insult us.”_ He began steering her towards a larger tent enclosure posted up opposite the Chantry. _“Though it does make it easier to collect information.”_

She kept quiet as she watched people slip in and out of the tent before them. They barely made a sound as they moved, determination glinting in their eyes as they went about their tasks. Agents of the Inquisition, clearly. She wondered if they were as strictly disciplined and trained as Fen’Harel’s agents needed to be, back in the day.

Karys ducked into the tent first at Solas’s overly polite insistence. Simple braziers were lit in the corners of the large space, creating a comforting sense of warmth. The furniture was sparse, utilitarian — devoid of any sense of personality. _Or, indicative of a strictly neutral one._

“Sister Leliana, may we have a moment of your time?” Solas’s hand rested at the small of her back, a strategic placement for the blank expressions, yet cataloguing expressions of the agents remaining in the tent with the Spymaster. Karys fidgeted with her hair, working up an anxious demeanor to better fit the act he was signaling: he was her protector because she is harmless, not because she was dangerous.

The lilac hood hardly concealed the woman’s flame-hued hair, which was cropped to her chin and framed a stunning face. The Inquisition’s spymaster had clear, shrewd eyes as they took in the sight of Karys, tucked against Solas’s side. Leliana’s expression never changed from indifference with a tease of smile at the corners of her mouth as she set down the missive in her hand to give the pair her full attention.

Everything about the woman in front of them screamed, “I can and will fuck your shit up if I need to.”

Hence, Karys immediately liked her.

“What can I do for you, Solas?” Leliana asked with her disarming Orlesian lilt.

“Lady Montilyet directed us to you when we asked after Karys’s things.” Bright, cerulean eyes settled on her. “Her glaive was in her possession when she arrived, but unfortunately her pack was left at the Temple. By chance, have any of the patrols in the area found her items?”

Leliana leaned against the table behind her, tilting her head to the side slightly as she held Karys’s gaze. Her stare was like Verena’s — piercing, peeling back any semblance of protection or privacy.

“You are an apostate mage, yes?”

Karys ignored the urge to roll her eyes. “I was not trained formally in a Circle, if that’s what you mean. Solas was — and still very much is my teacher.”

“Your staff is quite unique.” An idle gesture towards one of the agents along the side of the tent produced her glaive. A porcelain hand that undoubtedly slit hundred of throats without hesitation took hold of the black pole-arm as she studied the titanium axehead. After a second, Leliana rotated her wrist and flipped the glaive on its head.

Karys winced, but stayed put despite the urge to yank the weapon from her. “That’s because it isn’t a staff, it’s a glaive. If you don’t mind, could you not blunt the blade by sticking it into the ground like that?”

A bemused smile graced the spymaster’s lips as she brought the weapon right-side up. “Don’t mages require a staff to control their magic?”

She felt Solas stiffen imperceptibly. “Mages _use_ a staff to help stabilize their magic, especially during battle. However, that does not mean magic cannot be performed with the absence of one.”

Internally, Karys cackled at his tone. Lectures via sentences were Solas’s specialty.

“To avoid the Circles and the Templars, I learned to wield weapons rather than use magic when attacked,” Karys explained, gesturing towards the pole-arm. “I’m most proficient with a glaive or pole-arm, and the side benefit of it ground some of my spells doesn’t hurt either.”

Leliana offered the glaive to Karys, her eyes watching every minute movement. “My agents should be returning from the Temple of Sacred Ashes in a few hours. If they find your pack, I’ll have them sent to Solas’s cabin. I presume that’s where you are staying, yes?”

The pair nodded, and a slight glimmer of relief warmed in her chest. Solas dropped his hand from her back, the subtle signal for them to leave, but Karys paused. She met Leliana’s eyes once more, mimicking her earlier cocked head.

“ _L'ambassadeur a mentionné que je pourrais vous être d'une aide supplémentaire.”_ The spymaster arched a well-manicured eyebrow. “I’m fluent in several languages, including Tevene, Elvhen, and Qunlat.”

Leliana rubbed her chin thoughtfully before pushing off the desk. “That will prove most useful, indeed. Judging from Solas’s expression, your priorities will be aiding him with his research, but if I come across any translation needs, I will be in touch.”

 _“Merci beaucoup pour votre temps,”_ Karys said with a bow. The spymaster waved them away with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

Once out of earshot, Solas glanced down at Karys with raised brows. “Please tell me that you aren’t relying on a thousands of years old spell to get into the Spymaster’s good graces.”

Grinning, Karys twirled her glaive idly as they made their way towards the tavern.

“I’m not relying on a thousands of years old spell to get into the Spymaster’s good graces.”

_“Fenedhis.”_


End file.
